The Bourne Reality
by Sincere Liar
Summary: Resting her head against the window, Nicky cursed herself, David Webb and Jason Bourne knowing that really, even in the middle of the night when she wished him pain, that she would always love him. Updated 21/05/09!
1. Chapter 1

I don't own anything of the Bourne Franchise.

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'It get's easier'

Nicky thought she would vomit when she heard him say it – _getting easier…Bastard_...Whirling around she very nearly cried out, but stopped when she saw the look on his face; he was merely trying to placate her. So she nodded, swallowing the scream that threatened to engulf her, and boarded the bus. Jason Bourne was out of sight by the time she had found her seat – once again leaving her.

Whilst she sat there, Nicky wondered why she had never cried; she hadn't cried in years. There were often times she desperately wished she could alleviate the ache that dulled her movements, a pain that only ever peaked when she had to fulfil her duty and act as his contact point. At those times, despite swearing to herself that she wouldn't, Nicky found herself searching his eyes for any hint of recognition - and hating him when she couldn't. Well trying to hate him – on some level she envied him – Jason Bourne bore no memory of his alter ego, had no recollection of the life of David Webb or why he was driven to resort to such an extreme form of escapism – a reality that Nicky was burdened with every day.

Sighing, Nicky glanced at her reflection in the bus window; her short dark hair didn't really suit her and yet she quite liked it – it was such a change from her usual appearance and she relished in the fact that often she didn't recognise herself; allowing her a certain level of freedom and the split second of delicious escapism that she craved. Her thoughts now wandered to recent events; Madrid and Tangiers, like Paris and Berlin were the adrenaline fuelled experiences she had come to expect from this new Jason Bourne. The old Bourne was efficient, reticent and cold…and then Marseilles had happened, and the Bourne whom she had become reluctantly accustomed to had changed – becoming haunted, unpredictable and so much more human than Nicky could have imagined. This new Bourne who had threatened her, and for the first time in her life had frightened her, this Bourne was becoming more like David Webb then she would have liked.

Finally allowing herself to fully examine territory previously prohibited by her drive for self preservation, Nicky pondered who the man was who had accompanied her to the bus station. She first noticed the change when he confronted her in Berlin, his anguish and grief so palpable, mourning the loss of his girlfriend. Nicky had tried to pity him, to feel something for his pain and to a certain extent she had been successful; but underneath the surface, in the dark recesses of the loneliest nights, when hope abandoned her and she felt like she was drowning in her own grief: Nicky was relieved – relieved that he was hurt as much as she was; that he hadn't completely escaped from punishment. Though not for the same reasons, Jason Bourne was still paying penance and Nicky felt somewhat compensated.

But it could no longer be denied that this newer Bourne was losing his assigned character and gradually reclaiming his lost one; perhaps that was the reason why she had wanted to help him, or why she had very nearly divulged the information she had sworn never to allow him. And then when they were in the hotel room, after he had rid them of Desh, she had watched him as he had examined the bruises and blood on his hands, and she had finally seen what she had been searching for years – David Webb had looked up at her at that point, a brief minute that had shattered Nicky's carefully built resolve, and she had reached out to him as he had described the weight of his actions upon him. But even then, Nicky thought as she watched the countryside go past, she found that she missed the old Bourne – the man who really didn't care about her or anyone else for that matter. That Bourne bore no real resemblance to David Webb and Nicky found that she could become as emotionally detached as he was; preferring to believe that David Webb had died years ago.

Resting her head against the window, Nicky cursed herself and David Webb and Jason Bourne knowing that really, even in the middle of the night when she wished him ill, that she would always love him.


	2. Chapter 2

I have no ties to the Bourne franchise.

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He hit the water with a resounding crash; pain emanating everywhere. Darkness pressed upon him from all sides, an oppressing silence and cold that confused him. Straining desperately to see if he could make out the surface, he eventually spotted lights shining directly below him. Righting himself, he began to swim with the current down river. It was hard going, even though he was allowing the current to do most of the work, pain was growing as he pushed himself on mercilessly, relying solely on his steely desire to survive.

Eventually he pulled himself up onto the bank, lying in the pitch black of the overgrown and muddy bank, whilst the sounds of the city echoed menacingly in the distance. His breaths came in short gasps, breathing hampered by the ribs that had been broken upon impact. Allowing himself a brief respite, he looked up at the night sky overhead, his mind reeling from the assault of memories that had been rediscovered back at the hospital. Trying desperately to understand why he would have volunteered to enrol into such a program, Bourne ignored the stinging in his right side from the gunshot wound inflicted upon his by Vosen. It was only a flesh wound anyway and he could tend to it later; besides, he thought to himself, it had definitely been worth it. Turning to the sky once again, Bourne was surprised that he did not feel the completion he hoped for once he remembered the faces and facts – well at least a sizeable chunk of them. There were still gaps between finishing the program and Marseilles, but he knew they would return in time. What was bothering him, as he reluctantly pulled himself to his feet, every inch of him screaming in protest; was that he still had very little memory of his life as David Webb. Slowly making his way up to the road, trying to mask his limp from a wounded knee, Jason Bourne found that the barriers around his mind began to melt away and he could see the brutal, tortuous nature of his training in stark relief.

Yet Bourne was still confused as to why he would ever join such an institution – all he could remember as he lumbered down the industrial road toward the din of Brooklyn in the distance; was that he had wanted it – more than anything else. Webb had been obsessed with succeeding in his training; his desperation sharply focused in the recesses of Bourne's newly acquired memories. David Webb had been running away from something and Jason Bourne was apprehensive to find out why.

For some unknown reason, he instantly knew who could help him complete the rest of the puzzle.


	3. Chapter 3

Nicky exhaled and smiled to herself; relaxing back into her chair she surveyed her surroundings. She had been sat at the back of a busy café in downtown Paris, perusing _La_ _Monde _leisurely as a report of CNN had diverted her attention. The description of the BLACKBRIAR operation was succinct but relieving all the same; Nicky knew now that at least she would not have to keep looking over her shoulder, perpetually fearfully of who could be following her. Hearing the news reporter describe that Bourne had been shot and fallen from the roof of the building, Nicky thought she had been slapped; and then beautiful relief washed over her when he continued to explain that no body had been recovered.

_It'll always be like this _she thought sighing _I'll always worry about him_. Not for the first time, Nicky pleaded with the cosmos that she could just allow herself to let him go and stop feeling - just to stop hurting and hoping every second. She grimaced _and Bourne thinks he has it tough? Partial amnesia sounds like a blessing. _

Putting some euros on the table she picked up her back and headed out the door, wondering what he would do now. Would Bourne have discovered the answers he craved? Would that lead him back to confront her? Nicky had no doubts that he would find her, despite all the precautions she had taken. Not wanting there to be a trace placed upon her, she had opened a new bank account with a new identity, and was working 2 jobs in order to try and survive. As she headed back to the language school where she worked as a teaching assistant, Nicky felt her initial relief dwindle to be replaced by growing trepidation – Bourne would come looking for her, and by revealing the truth, she would break his heart all over again.

Looking over her shoulder as she entered the school, Nicky could sense a storm was brewing.

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Thank you so much for the lovely reviews – it really means so much to me and gives real impetus to keep going!!

I really struggled with this chapter and that's probably why it's so short.


	4. Chapter 4

Don't own – don't sue

It had been a week since the showdown in New York. Bourne had patched himself up quickly and set about tracking down Nicky Parsons, a task now reaching its culmination as he sat watching her across the lively café. When they had departed she had told him that she would remain in Europe so that if ever he needed to contact her he had a rough idea of the general area she would be. It had been harder than he thought – he was impressed that she had managed to disappear so effectively; but he had been successful, as he always was, and now sat watching her from across a crowded room.

Jason wondered, as he examined her, why he was convinced she held the answers he was looking for. Nicky Parsons confused him – she had ever since he first laid eyes on her in Paris; when she looked at him it was never just fear in her eyes, but often recognition, anger and something else…maybe even disappointment? He had known her before his training, by now he was certain of it – she was the key to understanding why he had enrolled, had volunteered to become the CIA's illegal arm of the law.

He thought of Berlin, when he had held a gun to her head and she'd whimpered in terror. He was furious at her, convinced that she was not cooperating, and yet he couldn't bring himself to shooting; merely leaving her on the floor crying out for him. Despite his treatment of her in Berlin, when she'd walked in on him in Madrid she had offered her help? Defied the very organization she had invested her faith in? Answered most of his questions, treated him with compassion. And then there was that moment in the service station, when she very nearly let something slip. She had searched his face for something, anything and he'd watched her response when she couldn't find it – it had seemed as though he had punched her and the brief gleam of hope and faith that had shone in her eyes had been extinguished. Yes, Nicky Parsons definitely had much explaining to do.

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Nicky idly turned the page of her newspaper, not really even seeing it. She could feel his eyes on her, had known he was there for a while; the prickling feeling on the back of her neck that had told her someone was watching her – and you didn't need to be genius to figure out who. She was surprised it had taken him so long though - maybe he had been injured worse than she thought. Nicky had to stop herself from glancing over to his table and reassuring herself that he was still there.

Sitting there waiting for him to make the first move, Nicky suddenly became indignant; why was she always allowing him to dictate the terms? He had plenty of moments in the last few years that he could have killed her, and she highly doubted that he provided a danger to her now. Becoming increasingly emboldened, Nicky folded up her paper and stood up; nearing Bourne's table she pulled her keys out her pocket and threw them onto his table. Looking him in the eye, proud of his slightly bemused expression, she said

'Let yourself in - I'm sure you know where it is. I finish work in a few hours and then I'll be back.'

Without waiting for any sign from him, she turned on her heel and walked out of the café.

Bourne watched her leave with confusion; this Nicky Parsons was unlike the one he had previous dealings with, even before Marseilles – this Nicky was holding all the cards, something Bourne was never comfortable with. What was definitely clear now though, was what he could never work out before – Nicky Parsons was pissed at him and she had been the entire time he had known her; what was even more galling was that Bourne had no godly clue why.

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Thank you so much for the reviews!! You guys are so cool! Hope you like this new instalment, please R&R.


	5. Chapter 5

Hey everyone, this update is because of Angeloneous whose last review really made my chuckle. So I decided to be nice and update far sooner than I had intended! Anyway hope you all enjoy and please R&R.

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The sound of the door opening shattered the steely silence of the apartment; Nicky stood in the doorway, tottering on the indecision of whether she wanted this confrontation, whether she was ready for it. All her courage from earlier seemed to have evaporated as she sighed and walked into the tiny hallway.

She found him stood in the living room, looking out the window into the street below. He had not even taken his coat off and it struck Nicky how unusual this situation was; he had stuck to her instructions and done what she had asked. She clearly her throat so as not to startle him before reprimanding herself, he would have known she'd been there the instant she had opened the door.

'Um, so…how does this work?' was all that she could think to say; he turned to look at her and for the first time she could see how terrible he looked. His eyes were hollowed and pained, face pale and drawn; he moved slowly and deliberately like he was trying to prevent any unnecessary jarring.

'Jesus you look terrible' the words were out before she could stop them; Bourne merely raised an eyebrow but Nicky didn't care. She moved forward and stopped a few feet from him; concern replacing all other emotions.

'Here sit on the sofa – when was the last time you ate or slept?' She said moving to the small kitchenette to light the stove, then pulling groceries out of her refrigerator. Glad of having something to do, she set about making soup for them. It was odd, and of all the scenarios and emotions that she had expected, this certainly was not it – but Nicky felt relief, relief that it had not been David who had shown up nor had it been the two previous forms of Jason Bourne. The man in her apartment now was a new creature and previous experience should have taught her to be wary, however there was something in those eyes – he looked tired, so very tired of this perpetual struggle that was his existence…and Nicky felt she could relate.

With the soup bubbling away nicely, Nicky returned to the living room bearing two mugs of tea – an antidote she'd picked up during a posting in London. Bourne hadn't moved from his position next to the window and Nicky had to stop herself from chuckling at his evident unease.

'Jason? Really you need to sit down and relax, I'm not the one who's armed remember?' Nicky said with a small smile. Placing the steaming mugs on the small coffee table, she sat in the armchair opposite from him and switched on the lamp next to her. Bourne watched her as she moved, she rarely used his first name – it had always previously appeared to stick in her throat. He moved forward warily and sat on the sofa, picking up the mug of tea he found that was grateful of its warmth.

Nicky watched him, unsure of how to proceed; it was obvious that this was unchartered territory for him as well, so she waited patiently as he grew more accustomed to the situation. Eventually he looked up at her, his eyes examining her face as though searching for something,

'You still don't remember do you – your life as David Webb?' She asked quietly. It had always been leading up to this, but now that the moment had arrived Nicky wasn't entirely sure she was ready for the truth. Bourne had stopped staring and was now watching her closely, trying to ascertain whether it was ok to confide in her. Apparently he thought it was because he dropped his eyes to the tea in front of him and shook his head.

'Not really, I remember the training now and most of my life with Treadstone. I remember you as the operative who gave me my assignments and the monthly psych evaluations. But I don't remember you before that…I don't remember anything before Treadstone.' He looked up again to see her watching him closely; she was almost on the edge of her seat. Seeing her reaction Bourne knew he was right, Nicky Parsons had known David Webb – he wondered to what extent.

'So now what I need is you to tell me about before. Why did I join the program? How did we know each other?' Jason said watching her. Nicky didn't move for a long time, but merely sat watching him; Jason didn't force the issue though, he knew enough about her to know that he had to let her speak in her own time. Eventually she replied.

'Look, you remember maybe 5 years of your life now. I knew David Webb – that much you've figured out, but I'm not going to tell you it all now. No listen to me – ' Nicky said loudly as Bourne made to interrupt. 'Have you ever considered why you suffer from amnesia? It wasn't because you were shot – although the trauma certainly did initiate it. Your mind shut itself down because you could no longer deal with your memories, the things you had done on Treadstone's behalf.'

'You don't have the right to decide what I should and shouldn't know.' Jason snapped at her, Nicky closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

'I promise you that I won't hide anything from you, I will tell you everything I know about your life before Treadstone. But I'm not going to just relay the information and wait for you to connect the dots; you have to be ready for it – it has to be organic Jason. If you think about it, the truths that you've uncovered have been because you've remembered things and chased after them. You know I was in your past, that we knew each other before you became Jason Bourne; well you're correct, but that's all you're getting from me tonight. You still can't remember David Webb because you're not ready to.'

'And who the fuck do you think you are, to dictate the terms to me?' Bourne retorted angrily, leaning forwards. He hated that she had all the power; that he was so close to the truth and it was Nicky Parsons who now stood in his way, the one person who he never thought would. They stared at each other for a long time before Nicky replied quietly, dropping her gaze to the floor

'Because I'm the one person in the world who knows you better than you know yourself right now, and I'm the only person who you can consider a friend. Jason, has anything you've learnt about your life as an assassin pleased you? Or do you honestly wish at times that you'd stayed blissfully ignorant?' She continued when he didn't respond 'I doubt anything I have to tell you is going to please you. But I'm sure you already know that.' She said looking at him again. Bourne surveyed her with a hard expression, his jaw was set so tight that she could see the muscles twitching underneath. Her revelations were sending his mind whirling.

'Why do you care? Why not just tell me?' He eventually asked. Nicky swallowed, she seemed to be in pain.

'Because I'm not ready to have the conversation either. So we're going to have something to eat, and then you are going to rest and recuperate. I'm not going anywhere and you're going to have to trust me…Although I still don't know why you don't already. Haven't I done enough to prove that I'm not a threat?' Nicky retorted irritated, Bourne blinked at the sudden change in tone – from placating to accusing. They descended into another long period of awkward silence. It was Bourne's turn to sigh.

'I'm sorry Nicky.' Her head shot up from examining the carpet to look at him, he was watching her and she could see that he was sincere. She nodded quickly and smiled slightly.

'Right then, well you can stay here until you can get on your feet – don't suppose you're hungry?' She said walking into the kitchenette, and taking the soup from the stove. Passing a bowl of steaming soup to him, she saw a small grin appear on his face – the first one she'd ever seen on Jason Bourne – as he started to attack the soup with gusto.


	6. Chapter 6

**I don't own anything to do with the Bourne Franchise.**

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The kettle's screaming broke Jason out of his reverie, he moved into the kitchenette to take it off the stove. He had been staying with Nicky for a three weeks now – though he had barely seen her as she worked as a teacher's assistant during the day and in a bar at night. However Jason had to admit that he was surprised how comfortable he felt here; he never would have guessed how well he could have got on with Nicky. But as the days went past any time he spent with her he usually ended up smiling more than he had for a long time….since Marie now he came to think about it. Actually more than he had with Marie – their relationship had been loving and very physical and Jason didn't regret a second of it. But with Nicky, the only other woman he could remember having any contact with, it was much more caring: their friendship was so new and yet the way they fitted together made Jason think that they had been close for a very long time.

He had begun to remember the odd thing about his life as David Webb; it had taken a few days before he had had a flashback. Nicky had been very stern, despite his evident consternation, and only once he had taken a few days to rest did she hand over an old photo album. It had contained photos of his parents and other family members, as well as a sizeable portion of baby photos. Nicky couldn't contain her mirth as they had gone through the photos of the chunky baby boy smiling from all the pictures. His parents were exactly what he had imagined – his mother was pretty and small whilst his father had been very similar in looks, though Jason had to admit that he was considerably more powerfully built than his father had been. Nicky had patiently explained to him his family history, and as the details came Jason began to remember more and more clearly. Though he really already knew, it had still been disappointing when Nicky explained that for those chosen for the Treadstone program all immediate family must be deceased.

Even in the brief time they had spent together, Jason was becoming able to read Nicky very well. He could see that she was hiding something from his past – something monumental. He knew that she was enjoying the time they spent together and was pleased that he could remember things; but there were definitely moments when Jason was convinced that she was angry at him. There were as many demons in her past as in his; most nights he was awoken to the sound of sobbing coming from Nicky's bedroom. He also noticed that when she smiled – it never reached her eyes: those blue eyes that housed such kindness; also reflected a horror, a pain so poignant that there were times Jason didn't want to know about David Webb.

Making two cups of coffee, he set one down on the breakfast bar and turned to look out onto the Parisian vista; the city was just awakening and Jason found that he loved this time of day – when it was still full of unrealised potential. Nicky however did not share his enthusiasm and he soon heard her grumbling as she pulled open her bedroom door and made her way down the tiny hallway. Grabbing the coffee appreciatively and curling up into the armchair she scowled at him as he grinned at her.

'And why are you so cheery?' She snapped at him causing him to chuckle even more as he leant into the sofa.

'Late night? You came in at like 4 this morning.' Nicky rubbed her eyes to remove the sleep and stifled a yawn. Jason had to admit she was extremely pretty, sat there with her rapidly re-growing hair sticking up in all directions and her sweats that had _Georgetown_ emblazoned across them.

'I know – I'm going to have to stop this working two jobs, it'll be the end of me.' She moaned rubbing her neck, looking over to Jason she realised that he wasn't listening. His face had contorted and his eyes were unfocused. Getting to her feet Nicky walked round the table and kneeled in front of him. Gently taking his hands in hers, she whispered his name.

_David Webb was sat at a large wooden table, mountains of books around him and a pad of paper laid directly in front on the table. More tables were lined up around the room - - it was a library of some kind._

_Reaching out for the book on the top of the nearest pile, his attention was caught by someone entering through the large oak doors at the end of the room; a young Nicky Parsons entered the room wearing an oversized 'Georgetown' sweatshirt. She stood at the entrance searching for someone, when she caught sight of Webb she made her way over. Her long blonde hair fell all around her shoulders, and her bright blue eyes sparkled with an infectious exuberance._

_As she neared him she smiled – a full smile that seemed to lighten her face and illuminate the area surrounding her. She sat down in the chair next to him and Webb leaned over and kissed her to which she hungrily reciprocated…_

'Jason?'

'Jason?' Jason shook his head a few times to clear the image, the intensity of which had been previously unparalleled. He realised that he was still sitting on the sofa and that a very concerned Nicky was kneeling in front of him.

'Jason are you alright?' Nicky was worried, Jason had paled and was now searching her eyes – he had remembered something important.

'Nicky – were we ever lovers?'

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You know what to do ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**To all my Reviewers: You guys rock - Pure and Simple**

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The temperature of the room seemed to drop a couple of degrees; Nicky felt like he'd just punched her, all the air had left her lungs. She knew that it would eventually come out but now that he'd remembered….she couldn't, this was too soon.

Jason watched Nicky recoil, as though he had physically struck her. She dropped his hands and moved away; seeing her reaction he was convinced that he was right – that this was what Nicky had hidden from him: maybe he'd left her to join Treadstone? Maybe that's why she seemed to be so uncomfortable with him before when he was working for them.

Nicky got up and moved back to the breakfast bar, she could feel Jason's eyes on her, examining and judging her. Suddenly the room felt too small and airless.

'I've got to go; I'm going to be late for work.' Nicky said quietly as she began to move toward the doorway, but Jason was next to her before she could even take a few steps; in two long strides he was blocking her attempted escape.

'No you're not going anyway – this is real, I've remembered something important and you're going to tell me everything.' He shouted, grabbing hold of her arms. How could she have kept this from him? Nicky struggled against him arms but he held her fast.

'Do you have any idea what it's been like – trying to understand who I am? Trying to fit the pieces together and you – you who said you'd tell me everything! What? How did such a fucking massive piece of information slip your mind Nicky?!' Nicky looked at him before pushing him back with all her might; surprised by this move Jason stumbled slightly and released his grip on her arms.

'Oh STOP will you?! How dare you shout at me? As though I'd done something wrong? Holier-than-fucking-thou! You know what you are Jason – you're a FUCKING COWARD.' Nicky screamed at him. She'd never been so angry in her life and before she could stop herself, she'd hit him, punched Jason Bourne in the mouth. It didn't even occur to her who it was that she was hitting – a highly trained assassin who probably wouldn't even feel her ineffectual blows. Nicky recoiled in shock, surprised at her actions, and yet oddly satisfied. Glancing at Jason she immediately regretted it, his eyes burned with anger and before she could even process what had happened, he had pushed her to the floor.

Watching her as she lay there panting, Jason felt his bleeding lip – the girl had a good right hook. She wouldn't look at him and he didn't feel much like kneeling down in front of her, so they stayed in that position as the silence stretched. He couldn't help but wonder about the strange nature of their present relationship: so polite on the surface, never overly emotional – just touchingly considerate and…distant. Jason frowned as he looked at Nicky lying there, hardly believing what he had just recalled:

The Nicky Parsons of his Treadstone past – an agent of the establishment – a cold character who had been officious, utterly unapproachable and always disproving of him.

The same Nicky Parsons was the young girl of his memories, with sparkling eyes and an infectious laugh.

This Nicky was the woman lying on the floor where he'd knocked her down moments after she'd hit him, the only impassioned moment she'd shown since he'd known her as Jason Bourne.

'What do you remember?' Nicky whispered, barely audibly, still not looking at him. Jason watched at her for a little longer and then moved away, going to sit on the sofa – his oblique attempt at a truce; Nicky remained were she was for another few minutes whilst silence reigned once again. Sighing she stood up, folding her arms across her chest she remained where she had fallen. Jason waited until she looked at him before answering.

'We were at Georgetown together. You were there, we were…kissing.' He finished awkwardly. Nicky nodded, her jaw tightly clenched. Jason leant forwards, resting his elbows on his knees, not knowing whether to be patient or push for answers. Usually adept at reading people – he honestly had no idea what to do, how to handle this unpredictable Nicky. As much as he wanted to demand answers, he knew that Nicky no longer feared him; thinking back to Berlin when she'd seemed terrified as he threatened her life…was she as clear cut as he'd always assumed? Jason reflected as silence resumed, he knew her secret now: she had nothing to lose anymore.

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**A/N: I know this chapter is strange and probably not what you expected, but it will make sense and fit properly. I don't ever have a pre-planned idea of my stories and prefer to just see where each chapter takes me. Please bear with me…and if you have the inclination (and like to make me smile) R&R!**

**FYI: I have crap grammar…..deal with it.**


	8. Chapter 8

Nicky rubbed her face; she looked toward the breakfast bar and her now cold coffee on the side. So the moment had finally arrived, 18 months after Marseilles and 5 years after joining Treadstone, now she was having this conversation. Nicky glanced over to Jason who was sat on the sofa; for a moment they looked at each other directly in the eye and then Nicky began to speak, surprised at how calm and detached her voice sounded:

'We met during our first year at Georgetown, on the same poli sci course together. You did a degree in IR and Engineering; mine was IR and Psychology - I know the dates don't add up' She said quickly as Bourne was about to interrupt, Nicky found that she wanted to get this out in one go.

'You were older when you did your course; I was practically straight out of high school, having travelled for a year first around Europe. David Webb had been in the Marines since he was 18, but the Navy Seals had offered to fund your degree provided you served with them afterwards. So you arrived at Georgetown and we met…and became attached.' Nicky finished lamely; she was not entirely comfortable with putting a name on their relationship when he couldn't even remember the majority of it.

Standing awkwardly by the breakfast bar, she watched as Jason processed this new information - if he remembered anything he wasn't giving it away. His stoic face was cast downward as though he was desperately racking his brains trying to adhere any fact that she had given him to a blurry image in there. It was comforting in some ways to know that it wasn't coming back quickly; maybe Nicky would have some time before telling him about the 'real' things.

'Not remembering any of it?' Nicky said quietly. He looked up at here as though startled that she was even there.

'I don't remember what your telling me, no' He said coldly, not entirely sure why he was pissed at her. Nicky nodded sadly and left the room, returning a few minutes later with a large blue book. Stopping a few feet away, she kept her eyes on the book she was holding out in front of her. Jason watched as she bit her lower lip, as though deciding whether it was safe to entrust it to him. Apparently it was because she held it out to him, and after a few moments of staring into her blue eyes, eyes that were almost pleading with him not to take it, he reached out and took the bulky blue book from her.

On closer inspection it turned out that what Jason had originally assumed was a book, was actually a photo album. From the look of its tattered outer cover, it had been viewed often; for some reason Jason had an unexpected pang of sympathy for Nicky – he knew all too well what it was like to lose someone. Yet the difference in circumstances were surprising: he knew that they had never been lovers whilst he was working for Treadstone, or for that matter barely civil to one another. Maybe she had followed him to Treadstone? But then who would do that to themselves? See their ex lover who had no recollection of them? The more Jason thought about it, the less happy he was. With an increasing sense of trepidation he opened the album, glancing up to find that Nicky was not anywhere in the living room – he could hear the shower running. The first page was a blank white sheet, and written in pink ink were the words:

Property of Nicolette Parsons and David Marcus Webb.

Jason stared at the words; her curly lettering in such a garish colour seemed a complete paradox to the Nicky that he knew now. _Nicolette Parsons and_ _David Marcus Webb…_she knew his middle name, the thought was oddly comforting. And then it happened: not so much a memory but an assertion – she'd hated her middle name, _Angela_, so whenever he was annoying her he used to call her Angie….

He sat back, the recollection still burning in his mind. Her middle name had been Angela, another solid piece of evidence of his life as David Webb, of his relationship with Nicky. Taking a deep breath, Jason turned the page.

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Closing the photo album, Jason leaned back into the sofa, his mind whirling. With the photos had come the memories – a shocking assault of image upon image that barraged his brain in such a rapid succession that he barely had time to process what he was seeing. It had taken so long to reach where he was now – trying to remember his life a Jason Bourne had been a protracted and relentless quest. But it seemed as though his mind had no problems recalling the details of David Webb's existence. Photos of him and Nicky, beaming and laughing – he had been surprised to see how happy and young he had looked and how right him and Nicky had seemed together. It was uncomfortable – like he was watching someone else's life, remembering someone else's memories. He had remembered him and Nicky together: laughing, playing, fighting…making love. The Nicky from his memories was such a different creature from the one he knew now – she had been always laughing, passionate and gregarious. There had been photos of him graduating with others – possibly friends, though try as he might, he couldn't remember them. He remembered the Marines and the Seals: he had liked the discipline – the hands on approach. Yet he still could not remember his family, his education, his friends or home: the clearest image he had was Nicky – Nicky, the one consistency between Webb and Bourne.

As he sat there Jason couldn't prevent his mind from wandering to his memories of them together – kissing, laughing, rolling around in bed, her body pressed against his…

'Any luck?' Nicky's voice rang out like a shout even though she'd spoken softly, standing just inside the doorway; Jason tried not to start as he blinked away the images in his mind. Clearing his throat he practically threw the album onto the coffee table.

'Some – college is really clear now, and some memories of my time in uniform.' He said looking up; Nicky was dressed for work, Jason noticed that she looked pretty – always understated, never garish. She nodded, obviously not wishing to push it further.

'Well I'm off to work, I'm already running late. I'll be lack later – got a night off. I-I…ok. Bye' She said awkwardly before practically running for the door. The sound of it slamming echoed through the apartment, leaving Jason surrounded by silence, just his memories for company - memories of tenderness and sweat and Nicky crying out in ecstasy.


	9. Chapter 9

Jason had spent the day out of the apartment, wandering the streets of Paris – with his renewed recollections, the apartment was just too much; even smelling of Nicky, everywhere he turned he could see them together – their life before. Wandering in the fresh air he could get some perspective, well at least he could try.

It just didn't make sense, he thought pounding the pavement his eyes searching all around him as a reflex, trying to define any hint of danger. The threatening sky overhead matched his mood – grey bulbous clouds swirled above in a glutinous mass that threatened to alleviate itself over the city. Stopping on the Pont Neuf, Jason looked down at the Seine swirling below. How could there be so much history between them and Nicky never mentioned anything? Not even after he had broken away from Treadstone – did she not think that instead of him being relentlessly pursued and having no godly clue why, she could have mentioned who he was, where he came from and how they knew each other?

Watching a river boat meander slowly down the famous waterway, Jason considered Nicky. The last few weeks staying with her had been different – comfortable and even content some minutes and yet driven to distraction when he couldn't remember the things he needed to. Nicky had been comforting to him then, reassuring him. And yet all those times, she had the answers he was desperately searching for? Jason was angry at her and yet, for the first time in his quest for the truth, Jason did not regret what he had learned or wish that he had not learned it.

Then there was also the issue that Nicky had her own axe to grind at him – her outburst in the apartment indicated as much. Nicolette Parsons was the most infuriating person Jason thought he'd ever met as he sat there: a complete paradox of sweetness and gentility and yet also a locked box of pent up anger and resentment.

Kicking his foot against the unyielding stone, Jason turned his thoughts to what he'd learned: Born in Ohio, an only child; and although he couldn't recall it yet, he knew that his parents were dead. Treadstone would not employ an assassin who still had family to ask questions or uncover any truths. No, these men had to be ghosts. The thought saddened him and he remembered a conversation that he'd once had with Marie about whether any family was waiting for him – well it turns out he didn't_…well, unless you count Nicky…_

Jason shook his head to remove the unwanted thought, Nicky was not family – she wasn't anything anymore. Jason grinded his teeth as he thought of Nicky and Marie; his grief at Marie's passing had deadened in intensity slightly, it didn't feel like a corrosive liquid that filled his chest all the time anymore; just a dull ache that throbbed when he awoke alone in the mornings. _Well, not when he was in the apartment_, Jason thought of how being around Nicky alleviated his loneliness and made him smile, actually smile. And he thought of when he did this, how Nicky's face would light up and some of the pain in her blue eyes would lessen for a split second. As Jason stood there he wished he could understand the nature of her pain, and he found that he wanted to make her smile to see her dimples and those enthralling eyes of hers. Then he remembered Marie's lifeless body floating away from him in the river and stopped his musings about Nicky instantly: Guilt was a powerful thing.

Turning away from the hypnotic river, Jason realised that darkness had fallen. He turned in the direction of the apartment, his intentions clarified – there was still a huge chunk of information missing and Jason knew that it was the key to everything. Only Nicky could tell him and she would have returned home by now.

_Yeah, sure, you're rushing back to see her for information_ said the irritating little voice in his head.

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**Hey guys – sorry about being so quiet. Be back soon to tell you all how amazing you all are. By the way some of you are getting really close to guessing my storyline: cool!!**


	10. Chapter 10

It had been two hours since Jason had returned to an empty apartment. Pacing the living room he honestly didn't know whether it was just his overly sensitive mind but something certainly didn't feel right: Nicky was meant to have been back from work nearly 4 hours ago. Looking out of the window down on to the busy street below Jason thought about India: when there had been no prior warning that someone would just turn up, and then Marie…

Shaking his head Jason moved to the front door – if someone had shown up then Nicky was in serious danger – he wasn't going to let it happen…not again.

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The rain had been increasingly steadily as Jason ran over to the language school. By the time he arrived he was soaked to the skin. The school was locked and dark, no sign of anybody around – of course she could be inside, but Jason was highly doubtful. Turning around to survey the square that the school was situated on, he took in all the faces sat at the cafes – nothing looked out of place. Panic started to rise as Jason realised that he had no idea where Nicky could be, loud music was coming from a bar to his left and he shook his head to try a clear his mind from the throbbing noise. Thinking that he would retrace his steps back to the apartment, he past the noisy bar sparing it a casual glance and stopping dead in his tracks – through the glass front he could see Nicky dancing.

Still wearing her work clothes from that day – though with many more buttons undone – Nicky lost herself in the music, relishing the release that it had always allowed. Jason watched her as she moved – so happy in the moment, and so very sexy. It seemed as though she was years younger – before Treadstone...and before him. Watching her suddenly Jason felt indecent; almost as though he was privy to something he shouldn't be. And yet he found he couldn't stop staring at her, not simply because she was a very good dancer, but because of the change he saw… and suddenly he had a glimpse of understanding.

Not exactly a memory…more like a harbinger of a recollection: Jason caught a glimpse of Treadstone's Nicky Parsons – not the officious, cold person she had always presented the assets with; but the Agent Parsons who was running away from a past so painful that she chose her only human contact to be men, who were so processed that they could not even feel. As Bourne stood there in the pouring rain, he realised that he and Nicky had been running away from the same thing – whatever had happened it had been enough for him to enrol in a programme which would reduce his life to little more than a headache. And for Nicky…well, Nicky seemed to keep her pain so close to her…almost a daily punishment.

Then the song came to an end and Nicky turned toward the window; whether because she felt someone's eyes upon her, or simply to check on the weather. Jason watched it like it was slow motion, her blue eyes shone with a long forgotten vibrancy as they came to rest on him. Then widened as she recognised the strange man staring at her so intensely: Those beautiful eyes deadened instantly and Jason was surprised to find that he winced ever so slightly, because he had caused that beautiful light to go out. They stared at each other and gradually Nicky began to walk towards the door, reaching it, she yanked it open and came out into the rain.

'What the hell are you doing here?' She shouted, not even noticing the tumultuous downpour that soaked her instantly. Jason, surprised at her anger quickly became defensive.

'I'm here because you didn't show up, because you said you'd be back hours ago.'

'And so you thought that you'd check up on me? You thought that because – once – a very long time ago we'd been together, you had the right to know where I was?' Nicky glared at him infuriated and embarrassed; she would have given anything for him not to have seen her here. She knew that she was being irrational, that he had only seen her dancing, but she felt oddly violated.

'No Nicky, it's just that I have experience of this. You didn't show up and if something had been wrong, then you'd have been damn relieved that I did come to find you!' He shouted back, angry at both of them. He had sworn that after Marie he would never do this again; and yet she stood there with her arms crossed so defensively, biting her lip in her characteristic way. Nicky looked so angry and embarrassed that for one mad second Jason wanted to laugh – she had reminded him of the fights they had used to have. And then he felt sick, sick because he knew where this was going – he could see what would unfold between them, despite all the pledges and protestations he had made after Marie had been murdered. Jason suddenly wanted to get out of this place, away from Nicky who stood in front of him, her clothes clinging to her. He turned and crossed the road, but she followed him.

'What the hell? So you think we're still in danger? Jesus Jason give it up! It's over! For Christ sake, give it a fucking rest!' She shouted, stopping in the middle of the road as he reached the opposite pavement and turned to her.

'Have you ever seen someone shot Nicky?! Have you ever killed anybody? I have – so don't you fucking dare speak to me like this is trivial – like I'm over-reacting. I watched Marie get shot, I watched her float away down that river, knowing there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. So fuck you!' Jason shouted at her moving slightly closer; Nicky watched him, her eyes narrowing slightly as she began to understand.

'Jason I'm not Marie – and Marie wasn't shot for being Marie. Her death was accidental…they wanted you.' Nicky shouted, though no longer angry but the rain was bouncing off the cars and tarmac that it made it difficult to hear anything at all.

For a while they simply looked at each other, neither really wanting to break the pregnant silence. Nicky knew the guilt that Jason carried with him, at first she had rejoiced at it. But watching him as he stood there in the rain, her anger subsided to be replaced by pity and shame – shame that she had secretly known what she had been doing when she had gone out and not informed him, hoping what his reaction would be. Ashamed, Nicky admitted to herself that she had been testing him.

'I'm sorry' Nicky whispered. She was not sure that Jason even heard it, but after a moment he nodded. Starting to walk from the middle of the road toward him; Nicky didn't hear the screech of frantically braking tyres, or the panicked blaring of a horn. In that moment all she could see was Jason, as his head turned toward the sound of the commotion, and the terror suddenly written on his face as he realised what was going to happen: He had frantically called to her but she couldn't hear him over the rain.

And then the broad metal bonnet had slammed into her body and Nicky Parsons was lost in darkness.

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**Hey guys, I'm sorry about the massive delay in posting. For some reason this chapter just wouldn't come…took me ages. Anyway the next one will also be awhile; these chapters are getting more complicated and so need longer to write. Plus I got really ill a few weeks ago and recovery is taking ages!!**

**So stick with me and thank you for reading my fan fic.**


	11. Chapter 11

Hey Guys – I realize that it has been a REALLY long time since I last posted

Hey Guys – I realize that it has been a REALLY long time since I last posted. I will finish it. Just give me until October when I can get my laptop back and I'll start uploading again!! (Sorry)


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 11:

**Hello! Once again to all the lovely lovely people who have been reading my fanfic – I'm Back! Hooray!**

**Please keep with this story – I'm going to continue with it now.**

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Jason felt numb. Sat with his head in his hands, eyes clenched against the bright white linoleum of the hospital corridor. Despite the tension that usually existed in hospitals – the rollercoaster of emotions that were experienced here everyday – this place was vacuous. Jason didn't know how long he'd been there, just sitting, replaying the accident over and over in his head. He could have gone in and sat by Nicky's bed hours ago, but just couldn't bring himself to walk the final few steps…couldn't walk through that door and see her lying there…

He'd watched her as she'd looked at him, she'd known what was happening a split second before it did; and yet what Jason couldn't get over, was the look on her face – it had been fear. Fear, such an obvious response to the situation and yet made Jason sick to his stomach when he thought that she was terrified and he had just stood there.

It had been a delivery van, coming to drop off early editions of the newspapers. The driver had screeched to a halt, and thrown himself out the van to see what the damage had been. Jason had had him on the ground in seconds demanding who he was; when satisfied that this guy wasn't a leftover from their Treadstone days, had released him and gone over to Nicky. Blood had been pouring from a cut on her head; Jason had quickly and expertly examined her injuries – she had a few broken ribs, and a collapsed lung from the sound of her laboured breathing; other than that, nothing else appeared broken. It was only when they had been brought to the hospital that he had learned the amount of internal damage that had been done. Nicky had been rushed straight into surgery and had only been wheeled out 6 hours later.

Jason had spent the entire time staring at the wall opposite him; not quite believing that this was happening again. Sat in the empty hallway he was confronted with it – that however much he'd try to deny it, David Webb was being resurrected and along with him were feelings for his Nicky. Sat there Jason wanted to run, vomit, scream and hit something, the feelings had become so intense that he felt like he drowning.

Nicky had been out of surgery about an hour, Jason hadn't moved from his spot – couldn't bring himself to cross the threshold into her room. Something was stirring in his memory, swirling in the mists of the forgotten: this was so familiar, they'd been here before. Jason squeezed his eyes shut, for once desperately avoiding a recollection.

Then he had heard it – a small gasp. Forgetting his trepidation, he dashed into the room to find Nicky looking at him with tears in her bruised eyes.

'I'd thought…I – you weren't here. I…' tears splashing onto her cheeks. He came and sat by her. The surgery had successfully repaired her collapsed lung, but her spleen had been too badly damaged and had been removed. Her face had been badly cut and bruised, her left arm broken, a few broken ribs, and a dislocated right knee; considering the force of the impact, it was amazing that she'd only sustained the injuries she had.

They stared at each other for an age, neither wanting to speak and both knowing that they had reached the point when answers would have to come. Nicky looked away staring at the ceiling, tears rolled down her cheeks as she bit the inside of her cheek in a futile attempt to stop. Jason didn't move from his position, watching her as she cried, wanting to reach out to her but knowing they were a planet apart – he was Jason Bourne, he couldn't comfort, couldn't show compassion – he wasn't programmed for that.

So here they were, two people in a hospital room, both desperately needing each other and yet neither having the courage to reach out.

'You're the reason I joined Treadstone aren't you? Something happened between us – I remember that something was driving me through the Treadstone training.' He stared at her as she gulped in cold air, trying to control herself. Eventually she stopped hiccupping

'I can't tell you – I can't, I'm not strong enough. You'll leave me all over again and – and I-I. Oh God!' Nicky sobbed and fresh tears rolled down her cheeks and she cried harder then ever. Without realising it Jason had taken her hand. He stared at there entwined hands in surprise, but didn't pull away, Nicky calmed at his touch and they stayed there for another few hours in silence, until both fell asleep – their hands clasped.

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**Let me know what you think – I wouldn't be writing this if it weren't for all the reviews; They truly give me inspiration!!**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N at the bottom.**

**I really don't own anything to do with Jason Bourne or any recognisable characters from the movies or novels.**

_He was driving through the city again – the same route as always – though he didn't know their destination. The radio was playing some non-descript music, which Nicky was singing along to it very poorly. David was laughing at her attempts to sound like the pop singer, as she playfully punched his arm in retaliation. It had begun snowing once again and the flakes swirled around the car as they pulled up to the traffic lights on the corner of East 27th and Vermont. Nicky was laughing at herself as she fed him a fry from the leftover Macdonald's Happy Meal. He looked over at she sat there – her plentiful hair had been braided on either side of her head, and she wore an orange beanie. He'd always loved the fact that she was completely opposite to his life in uniform: An all American girl, the kind that generations of soldiers had kept in the minds whilst in distant lands. It had been no different for David, their relationship was sacred, no-one was going to split them asunder – he'd kill them first. _

_Nicky smiled at him, knowing his mind had wandered off. As he stared at her, with an intensity that had at first disarmed her, she could see his eyes begin to brighten as he was pulled back to the present from memories of war and brutality. Grinning, his eyes darted between her lips and and her eyes. Chuckling, she leant forward to meet his lips; they kissed tenderly, almost reverently, until the driver in the car behind blared his horn impatiently and they realised that the lights had changed. David screeched forward as they were changing back to red and pulled across the intersection, tyres squealing noisily as they gripped the icy tarmac – but suddenly there was light…too much light and noise…_

Jason work up with a start, blinking furiously to remove the white light that still filled his head. He'd had the same dream every night for a month, ever since Nicky had been hit by the van. She'd been released from hospital a week later - neither had mentioned that night or any of his memories since. It seemed like both were stuck in purgatory – too scared to step forward, too late to go back. He sat up in the little bed in the spare room – bed was too damn small anyway – and groaned as he stretched his back and neck. Dropping to the ground, he began his morning routine: 150 chin ups, 150 abdominal crunches, 150 push ups. Jason relished the workout, the slow burning of his muscles, the heat that spread through his system – it reminded him of infinite possibility. This was the one thing his brain couldn't rob him, the power of his body could take him anywhere, he could survive anything. Well, he used to think that, something was telling him it was not the case anymore.

He showered and dressed, finally stealing himself to enter the rest of the apartment. Walking towards the living room, pausing outside Nicky's room for a second before moving onwards, entering the living room he saw Nicky stood with her back to him, looking out the window; her black hair, which had grown slightly from the short crop, stuck up in all directions from sleep. Ever since Jason had had the flashback about their time together at Georgetown, Nicky had avoided wearing her sweatshirt. It made Jason oddly sad that she seemed to be so unwilling to acknowledge their history. Shaking his head, he continued to the living room, still quietly seething at the woman. Every night his dreams were filled with recollections of their romance; he now dreamt of Marie intermittendly – once a week. It saddened him, his love for her had been honest and Jason felt a degree of sham that he had so quickly been enticed by Nicky - almost like he was having an affair.

_Technically you had an affair with Marie – Nicky came first_

He groaned as he sat on the couch – there was something missing, something massive – it was right there, on the periphery, like a looming shadow that, Jason was certain, would bring nothing but pain. But it was imperative that he know – slowly the two sides of his personality were merging, Bourne and Webb, and both sides wanted the answer...it was key to everything.

_Nicky knows. She has the FUCKING key! _

It had become harder. Their interactions were tense with fear, frustration and lust. On more than one occasion Jason wanted to beat the shit out of her – to know, finally. The headaches had become increasingly infrequent – only 2 or 3 a week, and they now had the level of a dull thud, of pressure – or the answer, trying to push through. He could hear her hobbling around on her crutches and began to pull on some running shoes. It was too much to face her after last night's memory – he was getting closer all the time and he had never felt so reluctant and so intent in his life. They were locked in a weird limbo – too close to the other, neither able to leave, both unwilling to talk. She'd become withdrawn, as though she resented his presence – and yet he'd catch her looking at him every now and again, her eyes alight with yearning and a grief so powerful it made him want to recoil. Instead he'd stay quiet and pretend he had not noticed.

She would wake to the sounds of him thrashing around in his tiny bed, a mixture of growls and whimpers locking her frozen in place. She prayed in those moments, not that she believed in anything anymore...except for him. Begging to an unseen force – the same force that thought it fit to destroy her life; begging that he wouldn't remember, and that she wouldn't be forced to relive the anguish again. To look into his eyes: eyes that had been alight with love and passion, that had been frozen, unknowing and unrecognisable, that would once again look at her with the same horror and loathing. She'd rather he beat her first.

Slipping out the front door, Jason quickly made his way outside onto the street and began jogging quickly towards the river. He would follow it for miles, relishing the burn in his legs and chest. Here, he was Jason Bourne. Here, he was David Webb. Here, it didn't matter at all.

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**I'm so so sorry I left it so long. I got better (yay!) and then I got married...well I eloped actually. Not really the big poofy dress kind of girl. Anyway you guys couldn't care less about that. Here is chapter 12 – Chapter 13 is written and shall be winging its way to you once I actually – you know – make it read like English.**

_**Please review – they make Jason take his clothes off....**_


	14. Chapter 14

**See I told you I was back. I'm getting closer to it – this is the beginning of the end. Please review and let me know what you think.**

**I claim no ownership to any aspect of the Bourne Franchise. I am merely a girl, wearing a ridiculous hat and screeching along to Robert Plant at the top of my voice.**

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It was late when he returned; hours had been lost to the sweat and the rhythmic pounding of tarmac, the sun was now sinking over the horizon in its eternal circuit. He slipped into the apartment silently, years of training teaching him never to lose the advantage of surprise. There were no noises coming from the living room or the kitchen, but the quiet whistle of the kettle indicated Nicky was in the apartment. The run had been good for Jason, cleansing himself of his confusion about Nicky and refocusing his goal: to recover his memory. He didn't like to think about afterwards – this had been his sole focus for so long that the idea of the truth, the freedom, was a little startling. Turning towards the direction of his bedroom with every intention of taking another shower, Jason stopped when he heard a hushed sound come from Nicky's bedroom. The door was slightly ajar and he stopped outside it; every muscle straining, his heartbeat increasing as he listened intently. If there was an intruder in the apartment it was highly doubtful they knew he was here, he'd been so careful when he came back. A small whimper sounded, followed by an almost soundless sob.

Nicky was crying.

Unsure if there was someone in there, or if she was on her own, Jason hovered for a split second. Deciding that it was continual vigilance and caution that had ensured his life had lasted so long, Jason prepared to enter the room.

A shrill scream rang through the apartment.

The kettle.

'Shit' Jason heard Nicky quietly mumble before the sounds of her moving around on her crutches. He quietly stepped back to the door, just as her bedroom door flung open, her eyes widening when she saw her was there. He looked back at her steadily; her blue eyes were puffy and reddened and still reflected the cause of her misery – Jason had seen it a few times, but knew better than to ask. They continued to stare at each other as the kettle continued its screaming and he waited for her eyes to deaden as they always did; once again closing herself off to him. Nicky swallowed thickly and dropped her head to avoid looking at him as she made to move past him. His arm shot out, blocking her exit and she whipped her head up to look at him, visibly blanching at the murderous stare on his face.

'Why were you crying.'

'The kettle-'

'Leave it.'

'But the neighbours. It-'

'Why were you crying.'

'No.'

'No?'

'I can't'

'Bullshit. You don't want to.'

'Fuck you'

'Is that the problem? You think I'll leave? I'm not here for you Nicky, I couldn't give a shit. I want my fucking answers.' Jason growled at her before roughly grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the living room. She winced as his speed made her drop her crutches and she stumbled on her cast – Jason didn't care. He marched her over to the sofa and pushed her down, before prowling over to the stove and removing the offending kettle. The silence was deafening for a split second before the anger that he'd had been battling erupted. Whirling around, he threw the kettle with all his strength against the wall, boiling hot water exploding out of it.

'FUCK YOU JASON.' Nicky screamed as she leapt from the couch, surprising him with her quick movements.

'You want your fucking answers? You think you have the fucking right? You are the most self-righteous hypocritical motherfucker I've ever met. I don't care who you are now – Jason, David. I don't give a shit. This is ALL your fucking fault you cowardly bastard – You broke me. You fucking broke us. You are the reason you ran away. You are the reason I died six years ago. I wish that van had killed me. I hate myself. I hate you. I HATE YOU.' Nicky screamed, before tears erupted and she couldn't quieten her sobs, her body racking at the powerful emotions. Jason stood there like stone, his countenance seemingly unconcerned – the clenching of his jaw and the glint in his eyes the only indication of any feeling.

Nicky began to pace slightly in front of him, wincing as her injured leg hit the floor, but she was too upset to heed it. Words started tumbling out of her mouth before she had chance to stop herself – every thought she had had since he had left now came rushing to the surface and she was at the mercy of her crazed passions. Her voice no longer held the level of volume it had had, but had lost none of its rawness.

'You held a gun to my head in Berlin. Threatened to kill me. I have had more right to kill you than ever you did to me. I cried, do you remember? It was like you were rubbing it in my face that you had so easily managed to forget, when I was trapped in this prison of memories for every excruciating minute.

'That first day in the Paris office when I saw your file...Do you want to know what I did? I was sick – really fucking sick, all over my new slacks. I couldn't believe what you had done. I don't think I've ever felt so ashamed and so envious of someone all in the same moment.

'And then we had that god awful first meeting, and you and Conklin just thought I was nervous of you – the big, scary trained assassin. Fuck off. You sat there looking at me with no recognition whatsoever. No memories, nothing. Like you were looking at one of your victims. But I wouldn't let you beat me – I would handle this, just like you had.

'Marie must have been a real fucking treat for you –' Nicky snapped her mouth shut, whatever she was about to say was swallowed down with the bile that had been rising in her throat. Instead she continued in a more controlled tone, it's cold, unconcerned tone more unsettling for Jason than if she had still been screaming.

'You've seen your files – you know that you volunteered for the program, for Treadstone and Blackbriar. I can't believe you have the audacity to think you have any right to demand answers. Today of all days.' She stopped pacing to look at him. His stance hadn't changed, but his eyes never left her. The ferocity in them was burning and she knew that every word was pushing him closer to his breaking point with her directly in his way – she couldn't bring herself to care.

'I would ask if you remember anything, but it would be useless. Of course you don't – you don't want to. Fucking coward.' She stopped suddenly and her shoulders seemed to sag, the fight leaving her as quickly as it came. She fell back onto the edge of the sofa and put her head in her hands, taking deep breaths to try and stem the sobs that had once more consumed her.

'I hate that I can't stop crying in front of you. I haven't cried in years and now I can't seem to stop. I hate that you have to see this weakness. I hate that you found love with Marie. I hate that I couldn't turn around after that first meeting in Paris and just leave. I hate that I've worried about you constantly. I hate that I can't let you go. I hate that I can't forget too.' She mumbled the last so quietly if he hadn't been concentrating as hard he would have missed it.

'I hate that I love you still after everything we've done.

'I hate that you can't remember him.'

**Review....Review....Review....Review...**


	15. Chapter 15

**I claim no ownership of the Bourne Franchise.**

Silence

Nicky sat with her head in her hands, staring at the light blue carpet underneath her feet.

She had expected memories, emotions to be assaulting her; in reality she was oddly numb, exhausted and tense. Staring at the innocuous carpet, Nicky marvelled that it had finally come down to this; they had been dancing around each other for weeks – both trying to ignore the ever present attraction that was beginning to become the big fat elephant in the room. Now any development of affection that had occurred would be split asunder by the truth.

His voice had startled her, an unwelcome intrusion on her newly discovered quiet but her muscles refused to cooperate and lift her neck. It had been one word, but she knew this was the beginning of the end.

'Him?' After a lifetime in a second she raised her head. He had moved and sat in a chair opposite, elbows resting on his knees as he leaned towards her. His brow was furrowed, his face confused, hostile and intrigued. Nicky swallowed thickly and sighed, deciding that she at least owed him this if nothing else.

'What do you remember of your training?' Her voice was hoarse from previous shouting.

'What has my training got to do with this?' He glared for a second before shaking his head. 'Don't do that. Don't deflect when this gets too difficult.' His voice was soft and harsh, their confrontation taking its toll on his nerves – he could feel the beginnings of a headache starting to pound. They continued to stare at each other, neither able to tear their eyes away. The tension between the two of them was palpable, the walls having been brought down. They could both feel the storm brewing, knowing that neither was going to weather it unscathed.

'I just want to know what you were thinking as you were going through it. Conklin only gave very limited information on the practices of the Treadstone training program...and when I saw you.' She paused, swallowing convulsively, her muscles seemingly unable to cooperate. 'David had completely gone – this new "Jason" was blank...empty, and at the same time so full of the rage that I could completely relate to him...it was odd, _you_ were in there but you weren't...weren't _here.'_ Nicky searched his eyes, looking for both David and Jason. He clenched his jaw and blew his breath out in a gust – ever since he had uncovered the days of his training, he had tried to forget the memories burned into his brain. Lifting his hand to rub at the back of his neck, Jason also knew that now was not the time to be aloof.

'I was so driven. It felt like if I stopped for even a few seconds I would lose it, so I just kept taking everything they threw at me. After every act I became even less concerned, like I was being...I don't know...almost dehumanized. I don't remember much else, just relishing that complete unconcerned attitude. It's disjointed in my head though.' Jason spoke quietly, but he knew he had Nicky's undivided attention; she had yet to take a breath since he had begun speaking. Suddenly she dropped her eyes from him and drew in a shaky breath.

'You weren't the only one who looked for an out.' She whispered, licking her dry lips. 'After you left, I'm not entirely sure I even noticed you gone for a while...I...I just needed to stop the pain. I-I needed it to stop, to feel nothing at all...I tried to hurt myself...' Nicky's voice cracked as her fingers unconsciously came to fiddle with the sleeve on her other arm. Unable to look him in the eye, Nicky bit her lip so hard Jason feared she'd draw blood. He struggled to remain still after hearing her timid confession; unsure what his reaction meant but knowing that he wanted to break something or shout, he gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. Sitting there, both realised that they had done exactly the same thing – looked for comfort in oblivion.

'Nicky...please...what is it? What ha-' Her strained voice cut him off.

'We had a child David. A little boy. Charlie – named after your father...Our beautiful little boy, who had never hurt a fly – who was always laughing...Our son, whose perfect little dimples on his cheeks you used to kiss when you tucked him in at night. Our son, whose grave is thousands of miles away from here...Our little boy...our...' Nicky squeezed her eyes shut as her voice cracked and broke, her body convulsing with silent sobs.

Jason sat back from her quickly, his mind reeling and his mouth opening and closing several times. Before he could process it, he was across the room, towering over Nicky, his arms on either side of her chair. His face an inch away from hers as she opened her eyes to look into his.

'You're a fucking liar.' He spat at her, watching as the tears poured incessantly from her eyes. She continued to stare at him, unable to respond in any way. In that moment he hated her more than anyone – why couldn't she fight back? Why couldn't she shout and hit him. This weak woman in front of him was lying right to his face and he had never wanted to kill anybody more.

His hand swung back before connecting with her cheek – her head snapping back from the force of the blow. Jason sprang back in shock from his actions. He had never hit a woman – as an assassin he had killed women, but never physically attacked one. His eyes met Nicky's, once again surprised to see the burning fury there, her previous tears contrasting oddly with the Hellion now glaring at him. She slowly lifted herself out of the chair so she was mere inches from his face – her cheek already turning an angry red colour. Her eyes scorched him with a fire that would have forced anybody else to retreat – he didn't even see her hand as she slapped his cheek with all her strength, his head barely moving despite the force of the blow.

'You want to know the truth you fucking cunt?' She whispered. '_You_ killed our son. Then _you_ ran left like the coward you are. My beautiful baby boy had his body wiped off the freezing tarmac and _you_ ran away so _you_ could kill somebody else's son, or mother, or brother. And the most deplorable fucking thing is _you_ already know all of this, you just refuse to face the consequences. So _you_ can hit me, beat me, fucking _kill_ me. Hell you've tried to do it enough times, one of these times you're gonna get lucky right?'

They were both breathing heavily as they glared at each other, neither backing down from their close proximity. Jason's eyes betrayed the storm raging inside of him, emotions reflected in those flickering across Nicky's face: swirling torrents of love, anger, agony, grief and hatred passing so fast he barely had time to process them. He broke their stalemate a split second before she did, pushing her chest with all the strength he had; the much smaller woman would have gone flying, had it not been for the fact that at that exact moment she had grabbed two fistful of his shirt. They both tumbled backwards onto the couch – the closest physical contact they had had since he had become Jason Bourne. Bodies pressed flushed, chest to chest, legs entwined and yet there was nothing sexual in the actions. He grunted as she shrieked, her fists pummelling his broad hard chest, as he held her shoulders in his hands – gripping so hard he was sure to leave bruises. She kicked her legs hard – wanting to cause him pain, wanting him to bleed, to cry – hell, to feel anything at all.

Despite Nicky's savage attack, Jason had her pinned on the floor in seconds, his legs straddling her chest as he held her arms above her head. She fought furiously, only semi-conscious of the almost feral sounds she was making.

'You're lying.' His voice was cold, disbelieving – his entire demeanour contemptuous. Nicky stopped struggling and look into his eyes, eyes that she had loved for so long – the same eyes that her son had had. The disdain in his face pierced through her body, knocking her breath from her in a loud whoosh. The fight that had previously burned in her knocked out under the hatred of his stare – she was finally defeated. He had finally done what he had always threatened to do.

'Get out.'

For an eternity they stared at each other. Then he sprang to his feet, turning and walking out the apartment without another word. Nicky left once again alone and broken, but this time the tears did not come, this time there was nothing left to cry for. There she lay in silence as the echoes of her lover's and son's laughter reverberating around her head in a sick cacophany of sound and she knew: she was in hell.

**Ok difficult times...let me know what you think.**


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